


I Missed You

by missduncan



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 18:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19431466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missduncan/pseuds/missduncan
Summary: Challenge response. Boyd and Grace meet at a seafront restaurant a few months after the end of Waterloo.





	I Missed You

It's a beautiful day. The sun shines from a cloudless sky, and a soft breeze from the sea prevents the air from getting too hot. Seated as they are on the cosy roof terrace of a posh seaside restaurant located a comfortable distance from London, everything should be fine. And – given that it’s a workday – they’ve got the place almost to themselves. The place comes highly recommended, is known for its splendid fish and seafood dishes; the waiter is attentive without crowding them, and the wine is nicely chilled. Yes, everything should be fine. 

Grace has a perfect view of the beach and the sea and the sight is gorgeous. She loves the sea; the wide spaces, the fresh air from the ocean and the soft, gentle sound of the waves rolling over the sand. Back and forth, back and forth in a constant calming motion. 

But the situation is strange. Complicated. Every nerve in her body is alert. The air between them is full of tensions and most telling of all is the awkward silence between them. After all the years of working together, they’ve apparently lost their ability to communicate with each other. After all the immediate greetings and hugs are over and done while discussing what to order, they both sit more or less pretending to be occupied with their food. 

She doesn’t know what to say to him... 

There’s so much she _wants_ to say. Of course there is – so many questions to ask. But it would probably be a mistake to try. Wouldn’t go down well... 

Back in April, parting after the meeting under Waterloo Bridge, she thought he was – _they were_ – okay. After a hug and a chaste kiss on her cheek, he helped her into a taxi and stood there, alone at the pavement, waving to her as she drove away. She really believed everything was all right. 

But the last months have proved otherwise. Despite his promises, Boyd's been mysteriously silent ever since. Not answering any calls, texts or emails from her. Not from Eve or Spence, either.   
  
Their younger colleagues kept in touch with her almost daily – but not Boyd. He’d proved just as informative as the Met itself by saying abso-bloody-lutely nothing. Not a word... Not until two days ago, when she received a text. A plain, simple text. No greetings. No personal messages.   
  
“Lunch. Tuesday at 1pm. Grill and Oyster. Hastings” Immediately followed by an even shorter text. “Please.”   
  
He was always a man of few words but that? It beat all! 

She’s been worried sick for him during these… almost nine weeks… not knowing how he was coping. The situation being disastrous for all of them but for him – definitely far worse. Eve and Spence both been offered new suitable jobs, and for Grace herself, well, it’s more a question of choosing what she wants rather than accepting whatever is offered to her. The CCU was his child. His lifeblood, his whole existence, and being put on garden leave or whatever they have done to him after closing down the unit, must be a huge disaster for him. She’s spent so many endless nights without sleep, and worse struggling with nightmares as she worried about his well-being.   
  
From time to time, she discreetly eyes him; scrutinising, almost assessing his appearance and mental state the best she can. It surprises her to find him as relaxed as he seems today. He looks so good. Casually dressed in chinos, a plain black t-shirt – plain, yes, but absolutely of good quality. He probably doesn’t have anything from H&M in his wardrobe, she reflects. It suits him just as the designer suits he always wore at work did. But then, what _doesn't_ suit him? she reflects. Even dressed in rags the man would look gorgeous. 

He even appears younger somehow. The normally deep lines on his forehead are still there but less prominent; his shoulders are still broad but less squared. He seems less authoritative, less powerful... but it doesn’t diminish him in any way – it's like he doesn't care. Like it just doesn’t matter. She isn't quite sure how to describe it, but today Boyd suddenly looks like a man in peace with himself. A man that has nothing to prove; nothing to answer for. That's good. Very good. Not what she expected though... and he certainly doesn’t look like he needs her worries. 

“What’s wrong, Grace?” 

His voice startles her, lost as she is in her thoughts. Confused, she gazes up at him. “Eh?”

He doesn’t say a word, simply raises an eyebrow instead, tilting his head slightly before his gaze wanders down towards her plate. 

Realising, she's been pushing her food back and forth on the plate, she reaches for her glass. After taking a deep sip of the cool wine, she smiles at him, replying, “Nothing,” and places the glass back on the table, turning her attention back to the food. 

“Come on, Grace. You’re not eating." Lifting his knife, he points and waves with it towards her plate. "Besides," the hand comes to rest at the table, still tightly knitted around the cutlery, "you’ve hardly said a word since you arrived.” 

She doesn’t know what to answer. Doesn’t want to argue with him. Sighing, she bends her head, concentrating on her food. 

“When you stop talking, I get worried, remember? You’re pissed off,” Boyd simply states. “Well and truly, and I’m fucked if I’ve got a clue about why...” 

“Believe whatever you like, but I’m not!” Grace snaps. Looking up, she sends him a fleeting smile to somehow soften her rather harsh answer. 

“You’re such hard work.” His lips are now a thin line but he presses on. “You are. Don’t piss me around, Grace.” With an audible annoyed growl, he carelessly drops his cutlery on the plate, rests his hands on the table and starts drumming a staccato rhythm on the table, a clear sign that he’s about to lose patience. “And that miserable crab of yours is well and truly dead by now. It’s been dissected more thoroughly than Eve ever could manage...” The voice’s still low but strained now, indicating he’s close to losing his temper. “Spit it out, will you.” 

Maybe it’s the sun. Maybe the wine – Grace doesn’t know – really doesn’t care. “How can you possibly have pissed me off, as you so eloquently phrase it, Boyd?” she replies, trying to keep calm herself. Closing her eyes, she takes a moment, concentrating on her breathing before she soothingly continues, trying to placate him. "We haven't seen each other for most of two months.” 

“Exactly my problem. Please, elaborate, Grace, because I don't get it. What I’ve done this time without being anywhere near you.” 

  
The constant sound of his rapidly moving fingers annoys her. “And that couldn’t actually be the problem, eh?” He doesn’t answer, but she can’t stop now. “Just check your damn phone, Boyd. All the missed calls, the voice mails, all the texts you couldn’t be bothered to answer? From me. From Eve. From Spence... Five minutes after the CCU is permanently closed, you’re out of my life without a word. Faster than a bat out of hell... Maybe _you_ don’t care, Boyd. But some of us do. We _do_ care. We're worried for you, for each other.” Desperately, she clutches her napkin on her lap. “ _I_ care, but apparently _you_ don’t give a shit.” There's a lump in her throat now. Swallowing, she fights hard not to cry. 

Immediately, the fingers stop – only to be replaced with a single loud bang as he slams his hand hard down the table, the impact making every item on the table dance around. Slowly, the plates and cutlery come to rest again. A heavy silence falls upon them, like the air between them is frozen. 

Closing her eyes, Grace waits for the inevitable outburst that's bound to come. But nothing happens. Everything is silent. 

She senses a movement and raises her eyes, taking him in. 

Exhaling forcefully, he rubs a hand roughly over his face, makes a resigned gesture and sinks down in his chair looking like a little lost boy. 

For a moment, he sits still, staring down the table before asking quietly. “How can you say I don’t care?" Looking up, he catches her eye and continues forcefully, "I _do_ care about you. About _all_ of you.” Pauses, as if he’s searching for the right words, he shakes his head submissively. "But I'm no use to any of you now. Stripped for any kind of power and authority, I’m of no help to any of you.” Almost whispering, “I’m completely useless...” He rests his elbows on the table, buries his face in his hands.

“Oh God, Boyd...” The sight of him almost breaks her heart. Leaning forward, gripping his wrist, she gently tugs his hand away from his face. “Look at me. How can you possibly believe that? We didn’t call asking for your help. We wanted to be sure you were all right. To help you...”   
  
Slowly, he opens his eyes, scrutinizing her in silence. His gaze is deep with pain and sorrow as he quietly replies, "It's my duty to take care of you... all of you. To make sure everybody's okay. I failed... I'm the reason you all might lose your jobs... " 

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, Grace tries to comfort him, saying severely. “It's not your duty, Boyd. You can’t save the world, and besides the whole damned situation is no way any fault of yours. We all know that. You didn't have a chance. Maureen Smith and Tony Nicholson together with the rest of the higher echelon did what they could to close the CCU and get rid of us without further discussion, and sadly, they succeeded. It wasn't unexpected, was it? Oh, you sweet, foolish man.” Chuckling softly, she shakes her head. "I’ve been so concerned for you..." 

“No need to worry about me, Grace. I’m okay.”   
  
“Really?” Tilting her head, she studies him intently. “You lost your job - everything...” 

Laughing harshly, he shrugs. “I feel complete naked without my warrant card but besides that,” he nods reassuringly, “yeah, I’m fine, Grace.” Lifting his glass to his lips, he takes a healthy sip of wine before adding. “I’ve been looking at my options. Investigating a few possibilities. Even talked with a few people – therapy if you like. But tell me,” once again locking their gazes together, “tell me, Grace, how Eve and Spence are coping?” 

“Both are fine, thank God.” The anxiety slowly seeps out of her, as the tension suddenly drops and her muscles start to relax. "Both have been offered new, suitable assignments. Spence in the CID. Eve an exciting research-job somewhere in a private organisation. Both are – if not happy – then at least, contented for the moment.” She nods affirmatively. “I’m so happy for them.” A warm feeling of joy washes through her chest caused by the knowledge that their younger colleagues have got well and truly through the mess, but… there are still a couple of unresolved issues between herself and Boyd. Pausing, she lifts her chin, asking tartly. “But why didn’t you talk to me?” He doesn’t answer. She exhales deeply, presses on. “Once, you did promise to keep me in the loop. Remember?”   


“Oh, Grace, Grace.” He leans back in the chair again, chucking incredibly, suddenly looking much more relaxed again. “Are you taking the piss, Grace? _You_ are a huge part of my problem.” 

“Me?” Confused, she questionably points an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

Snorting, he trails a hand through his hair, pushing a few imaginary stray hairs away from his forehead – old habits dies hard – before starting. "At first, I emptied a bottle of whiskey – probably two – raging over the bloody fuckwits at the Yard, feeling sorry for myself. Sobering up a few days later, I realised I had to move on or the fucking morons would win their bloody game." He drains his glass and refills both glasses before he goes on. "In the end, I discovered it wasn’t the job, the responsibilities, or being in command that was the most important thing in my life... What I missed most, really missed, was _you_. Your smile. Your laughter. Your banter. Simply… simply not having you around.“ Leaning forward, he places a hand on hers, squeezing lightly. “It’s been so strange not to have you by around me all the time after all these years. Made me wonder... “ 

“Wonder? About what?” 

“It was weird. Lonely. I missed you... So much.” Mischief lacing his words as he goes on, “Even your constant babbling and endlessly long words...“ The old boyish smile is back on his face. “As good as married, remember saying that?" The intense glint in his eyes makes her shiver. "I’ve been thinking about what to do with you and how to keep you close.” 

“Keep me close...?” Confused, shifting on the chair, Grace ends up sitting right on the edge.

Gently, he turns her hand in his, interlacing their fingers, staring deeply into her eyes. “I’m free...” A sudden change in the light above their heads makes him tilts his head slightly to cast a glance up in the air. “... like a bird.“ For a moment, his words trail off in the wind as his eyes follow a seagull, circling above their heads looking for any leftovers, before he turns his face towards her again. Clearing his throat, he states with sincerity. “I can do what the fuck I like. Nothing binds any of us. Fly away with me, Grace.” Leaning into the table, he places a soft kiss on the back of her hand. 

His words leave her speechless. Not sure if she really understands what he's actually requesting, she has to ask. “I'm not sure I understand you correctly, Boyd... Is this a disguised proposal, or an offer of a holiday together?” 

“A marriage is often followed by a honeymoon, eh?” He laughs. “Where do you want to go, Grace?”

“You can’t answer a question with a question, Boyd.” Shaking her head, she also laughs happily. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“A yes would probably be appropriate – after that, you’re most welcome to start making a list... " Boyd adds with a wicked grin.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my response to a challenge between Got Tea, Joodiff, Stargate-Lover-Steph, and me.  
> Set by the seaside, the story must contain the following words: Fish, crab, bat, naked, phone, seagull, and drums or drumming. Words limit between 1000 and 3000 words. 
> 
> Many thanks to Joodiff for the Beta. Without her encouragement, help, and support this wouldn't be here. Thank you so much to everybody who takes the time to read this story – please, leave a few words to tell me what you think.


End file.
